


Why were you digging? (What did you bury) Before those hands pulled me (From the earth?)

by WinterWandering



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, based off an rp that clover and i are doing- although it's set wayy in the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:26:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28164708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterWandering/pseuds/WinterWandering
Summary: A bandage and a wide smile slapped across my facefic summary from wilbur soot's since i saw viennafic title from hozier's like real people do
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 122





	Why were you digging? (What did you bury) Before those hands pulled me (From the earth?)

Tommy grins as he dances around his room, a dazed smile on his face. He didn’t exactly...care about who was watching, simply because he was blurring his surroundings out- he was avoiding his problems. 

“Tommy?” He stops, his still dazed grin on his face. He thinks that anybody could ask him something right now, and he’d answer truthfully. 

“Yeah...!”

“We’re worried about you.”

“We?” Tommy raises an eyebrow, a half-chuckle rising out of his throat. He truly is dazed and sleepy, almost. “Who’s we, Techno…?”

“Phil, Wilbur and I. What’s wrong?” 

“What isn’t?” Tommy hums, and spins around, moving to rummage around in his closet. He makes a little noise of happiness as he finds what he’s looking for- it’s a knife, the older notes. 

_ Oh shit _ .

“I’ve been so tired, Techno.” 

“Tommy, bud, can you put that down?”

He giggles slightly, but does as Techno asks, setting it down with a clank onto the dresser. Techno closes a careful hand around it, - the knife was sharp- and places it into his cloak pocket.  _ He had to talk to Wilbur and Phil about this _ .

“Okay. Tommy, honey, did you take anything before this?”  _ Like pills? _ Was left unsaid. Techno’s voice is soft, as if he didn't want to provoke the blond. 

“Yeah! Wasn’t much, only...2?”

_ Okay. They didn’t have to go to the hospital.  _ His attention is grabbed as Tommy giggles again, as if this was funny. “Just wanted to....numb everything.” 

“Tommy, sweetheart, that’s- some of that’s good.” He approaches the youngest in their family, gaze soft (even through his mask) and arms out. “Can you come here, please?” Tommy falls into his arms, almost gratefully. Techno hugs the boy tight to his chest. 

-

“Wilbur. We gotta talk.” The musician's eyes flicker open at Techno’s worried tone- he had always been a light sleeper. (Plus, Techno had turned the bedroom light on.)

“Yeah Techno-?” His eyes flicker down to the blond in his oldest brother’s hold. “What’s wrong with Tommy?” 

“...caught him in his room. Asked him what was wrong, he pulled out a knife, ‘n said that he was tired. He also said he had taken pills- although it was only 2.” 

Wilbur’s gaze turns...sad, and he holds his arms out. “Give him to me...can you go tell dad?” Techno nods, and slips out the door. 

“....Wilby…?” Tommy murmurs, and Wilbur’s heart  _ aches _ . Combing the blond’s hair out of his eyes, Wilbur sighs softly. 

“Hey Toms. Talk to me. What’s going on?” 

“I dunno…? I guess...I guess...I- I  _ know  _ that I’m the worst, so I just...act like I’m the best.” 

“Oh, love...I am... _ so  _ sorry I didn’t notice sooner. I know how it feels, y’know?” Wilbur presses a soft kiss to Tommy’s hair. “Remember when I first joined the family?” Tommy makes a small noise of acknowledgement, head buried against Wilbur’s chest like he did when he was younger. “I had- and still do- issues. But...I came clean to Phil and Techno and they helped me. Yes, I relapsed, but I had help.” 

“You-”

“Mhm. But I got help.” 

“...can you sing to me? Like you did when I was younger?” Wilbur smiles slightly. 

“‘Course. What do you want me to sing?” 

“Surprise me…?” 

“Yeah.” The brunette clears his throat, and soft, raspy vocals fill the air as he combs a hand through Tommy’s hair in a calming way. “The cute bomber jacket you've had since sixth form, adorned with patches of places you’ve been...Is nothing on my khaki coat that I got, from a roadside when I was sixteen. My boots are from airports, my backpack's from friends...I'm not a man of substance and so I’ll pretend...To be a wanderer, wandering...Leaving ascetic belongings in hostels and restaurant bins. The roads are my home as horizon's my target...If I keep on moving, never lose sight of it…”


End file.
